


Trope Mashup

by Dracos_tealsuit



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Awkward Flirting, Background Relationships, Bad Flirting, Banter, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Humor, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Ron Weasley Bashing, Secret Relationship, Switching, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:00:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24317710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracos_tealsuit/pseuds/Dracos_tealsuit
Summary: Yes, I'd like to order one fake relationship, and one secret relationship, present that in alternating POV.Oh, and a side of Pansy Parkinson for the table please. With Teddy Lupin being adorable for dessert.Excerpt-Draco closed his eyes and let it all spill out. "I've secretly been shagging the chosen one for two months. And today, Hermione Granger asked me to be her fake boyfriend for the next four months." Pansy's hand had stopped moving and it sounded like her breathing had as well. Draco continued, "On top of all that, I'm pretty sure my boyfriend has the hots for my new girlfriend."**I don't know if I can finish this story. The joy of it has left... If someone wants to take it over please message me on Instagram @dracos.tealsuit
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 106
Kudos: 259





	1. Prologue - Draco

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fast burn for the boys because the fun of this story will really begin once they are together!  
> I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> I'm sorry to Ron, I actually love him, but he had to be sacrificed for this story. 
> 
> All characters belong to the author of Harry Potter.  
> Please leave comments for my sustenance 🍏

It started four years after the war. 

Ok, let's be real, it started when they were eleven. 

However, this story didn't start until four years after the war, when they were twenty-two. Let's catch you up. 

After May 1998 Draco spent four months in Azkaban and then eight months at Hogwarts. The day after graduation he left for France and spent most of his time making potions, reading, and seducing pretty French boys. 

Really, it was his mother's fault that everything changed. During the last three months of the war Narcissa had reconnected with her sister Andromeda. Consequently, Draco had started receiving mail from Andromeda and Teddy Lupin. It had taken no time at all for Draco to bond with Andromeda, who understood the heartbreak of loving a family that has hurt you. He found himself writing her twice a week just like he did for his own mother. 

Teddy on the other hand, had endeared himself to Draco to such a high level that he received far more than letters. Teddy's drawings and pictures were framed and hung the day Draco received them. His letters were kept in a small chest that was warded to protect the contents against fire, and water. Draco sent Teddy two letters a week, several photos of France, toys, books, and a slew of muggle items that fascinated him. Namely, stickers. 

So when Narcissa and Andromeda were sick of waiting for Draco to move back home they used Teddy against him. The owl arrived on March 10th, one month before Teddy's birthday. 

Along with the invitation Narcissa had sent an advertisement for a potions assistant in Diagon Alley. On its own this wouldn't have been enough to persuade him to return to England, it was the note on the back of the invitation that had secured his presence. 

_Draco,_

_I've already informed Teddy that you'll be there._

_Yours, Aunt Andromeda_

❣️~~~~~~~~~💕~~~~~~~~~❣️

Draco takes all of his things to Pansy's flat when he gets to England. Being back is one thing, going to the manor is something else entirely. She has agreed to let him stay there if he pays the rent, and Draco has already purchased the flat from her landlord. He is Malfoy, he's not going to do anything so plebeian as pay rent. He has his lawyer draw up the documents to sign the property over to Pansy but he doesn't tell her right away because he knows that she will think he's gone soft and accused him of being a Hufflepuff™.

He’s been in England for less than 24 hours before stepping into the foyer of Grimmauld place, careful not to disturb the curtains covering Great Aunt Walburga's portrait. He knew Potter signed over this place to Andromeda while Draco was still in lockdown. Potter told her that he wanted her to have a nice place to raise Teddy and had spent the summer remodeling the ancestral home for them. 

At least the birthday party is held on somewhat neutral ground because Draco knows the Golden Trio will be in attendance, along with a pack of Weasley’s. Even with the apprehension, he’s masking he knows he’s made the right decision about coming back home when Teddy insists on showing Draco every single toy in his room, sharing cake with him, and eventually, crashing from the sugar, in Draco’s arms on the plush sofa in the drawing-room. 

Most of the guests have gone home. Narcissa, Andromeda, and Molly are still in the kitchen drinking tea and discussing the new changes in the Ministry of Magic policy for muggle trade and Draco finds himself drifting off to sleep with Teddy snug against his chest. 

And this, _this_ is the moment when everything starts to change. 

“Malfoy.”

Draco opens his eyes to find Potter standing above him, hands stuffed into the pockets of loose-fitting denims, Puddlemore shirt stretched across broad shoulders. Merlin, he’s filled out nicely. Draco attempts to squash that thought and summon his anger but it won’t come. Not that he was expecting it, honestly. He isn’t interested in hating anyone anymore, not after the war, and Azkaban. Instead, he’s left with the underlying pulse of attraction he’s felt for Potter since 5th year and the lack of balance makes his heart beat too fast. 

“Potter,” Draco replies with the same even tone. 

Potter shifts and pulls his face from a grimace to something that he must think looks more neutral while looking at something just over Draco's shoulder. “Molly, Andromeda, and Nar-” he glances at Draco, blinks, and continues, “and your mother believe that we should make an effort to get along.” He motions to the four-year-old in my lap. 

“I’m sure we can be cordial when it’s necessary,” Draco says. 

He looks at Draco then, those exceptional green eyes pierce through some of Draco’s resolve, and seals the deal with a soft smile. Something that Draco has never been on the receiving end of from Potter. 

“I tried that already but you’re welcome to have the argument with them,” Potter says with a wave towards the kitchen, “if you think you can get further than I did.” 

Of course, Draco is not foolish enough to think he would stand a chance against two of the Black sisters and the woman who took out Aunt Bella. In the interest of self-preservation, and that is the only reason he allows himself, he opts to take his chances with Potter instead. 

“All right,” Draco says, “what did they have in mind?” 

“There’s a cafe down the street. They suggested we grab coffee.”

Draco is thrown by the suggestion at first until his mother practically materializes into the room and swiftly lifts Teddy from his lap. She smiles knowingly and Draco and says, “I will take him to his room. You can come to see him again tomorrow, he’s expecting you to be here in the afternoon.” Her eyes flick to Potter then back to Draco, “Have fun tonight.” With that, she sweeps from the room, Teddy, still sporting the Malfoy hair color, in her arms. 

Draco stands, spelling his grey trousers and black button-down free of wrinkles. “All right Potter, lead the way.” 

When they step out to the street and start to walk Potter says, “It’s a muggle place.” He says it like a challenge and openly examines Draco for a reaction. 

Draco gives him an easy smile. "Then I reckon you're buying because I don't have any Euro on me." It seems like the right thing to say because Potter relaxes and asks Draco about France. 

Three hours and a shared order of fish and chips later the waiter approaches with the bill. He's tall and slim with a sly smile and hungry eyes, and he's been flirting with Draco since they arrived. If this were any other night, or if he was in anyone else's company, Draco would certainly take him home. Maybe share him with Pansy. But it's not any other night, and he's with Potter. Potter, who bristles every time the waiter approaches, who speaks to him with a tight smile and glaring green eyes. 

Draco is fascinated by the exchange. He doesn't think he's ever felt so thrilled by someone else's jealousy. When the waiter leaves the bill in his hands Draco waits until he leaves to open it. Sure enough there is a phone number written on the paper and a messy 'text me' beside it. Draco's been hit on this way before but Potter clearly hasn't. 

"I just can't believe that someone so disrespectful still has a job," Potter says, yanking the bill from Draco's hand to smash in several bills of various color. 

Draco's amusement has to be wrangled down and locked away before he can casually lift a brow at Potter and ask, "Disrespectful?" 

"I mean he clearly knows you're bent-"

"Bi, actually," Draco quickly cuts in. 

Potter goes on speaking as if Draco hasn't interrupted. "but you're with another guy. What if this was a date?" 

"Is it?" Draco asks. He knows it's not, he just wants to see Potter squirm a bit. They've had a better time than he ever would have thought possible, but at no point was this a date. 

Potter huffs a forced laugh, "I'm just saying if it was that guy would have ruined your chances."

Draco leans back against the cheaply made booth he's been sat in for their time together and looks at Potter. He lets his eyes drop to linger on Potter's pouting lips for a heartbeat before saying, "Has he?"

Potter seems to have lost their thread of conversation because he doesn't say anything at first. He blinks twice before replying, "Has he what?" 

Draco feels his mouth curve into a familiar smirk, "Has he ruined my chances?"

They Apparate directly into the living room of Potter's flat and Draco doesn't give him the chance to ruin anything by talking. He grabs the collar of Potter's worn leather jacket and tugs him in for a kiss. Potter is a very good kisser. He walks Draco back until he's pressed against the wall for support. Every fantasy Draco has had over the years is cast aside as second rate when compared to the real thing. Potter's kiss is heated and greedy, and his hands roam over Draco's body, hot as a brand, as though he can't decide where he wants to touch more. 

"When did you get so bloody fit?" Potter asks, fumbling with the buttons on Draco's shirt. 

"I've always been pretty Potter, you're just oblivious." Draco wants the words to come out mocking but his breath catches at the end when Potter's hand makes direct contact with the skin on his abdomen. 

"I think your mother knows," Potter says when he grinds his erection against Draco's thigh. "I think she caught me checking you out."

 _Merlin_. 

Draco hooks a finger under Potter's chin and tips his face up so Potter's looking up at him. "Shut up, Potter."

Then Draco drops to his knees and takes Potter into his mouth, worshipping his cock until the only words Potter can say are ' _yes_ ' ' _fuck_ ' and ' _Draco_.' 


	2. An invitation ~ Draco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco POV

Two months later Draco sat at his desk writing out a theoretical potions formula for dreamless sleep. His first cousin, once removed, Felix Rosier, had helped him get the paperwork through the ministry to open the apothecary. He has a small shop on the tail end of Diagon Alley, just before it turned down Knockturn. The only thing Felix had asked for in payment was a steady supply of healing potions specializing in counteracting the effects of Peruvian vipertooth venom. 

It’s nearly noon on a Wednesday when the wards chime and the front door opens to reveal Potter slipping in. Draco bites back a smile and says, “Are you still being followed?” 

Potter casts a locking charm at the door. “Always,” he replies with a grimace. "You'd think the press would have something more interesting to write about than where I spend my time."

Considering the fact that Potter has just walked into the establishment of a former Death Eater, Draco very much doubts that, but he doesn't say anything. He knows Potter wants to keep his private life private. He doesn't even blame him really, Draco knows that the general wizarding public would lose their minds if they found out the Savior was getting his fill of Malfoy cock several times a week. 

Not to mention Pansy. 

Not to mention the Weasleys. 

Not to mention the _Malfoys_! 

Draco shudders at the idea of conversing with his parents about Potter. He glances up at his boyfriend and manages to push those thoughts from his mind. 

Potter has been coming by like this several times a week since Draco opened. He rarely has a good reason to interrupt Draco’s work, unless you count physical pleasure as a good reason, which Draco does. Most of their time has been spent in Potter’s flat but Draco likes it better when they are here because he has the upperhand of being in his own space. Though the lack of bed has its drawbacks. Luckily, Draco is fairly flexible and Potter is determined, so they usually make do. 

“I brought you this,” Potter says, dropping an ornate invitation onto Draco’s stack of scrolls. 

He doesn’t pick up the invitation, instead he stands and circles the desk to crowd into Potter’s space. “Have you finally accepted that Auror work is too difficult for you and secured your future career as an owl?” Draco asks. 

Potter gives him a rueful smile, “You know they say I’m going to be Head Auror before I’m thirty.”

“Do they? I’ve heard the company you keep might hold you back from that position.” He means for the words to come out playful but he can hear the undercurrent of concern in the statement. He hopes Potter doesn’t notice. 

“No one knows about the company I keep,” Potter says. Green eyes travel with open hunger over Draco’s body. “And if they ever make me choose between my life and my job they are going to be sorely disappointed with the outcome.” 

Draco slips a finger into a belt loop of Potter’s ill-fitting denims to pull him close. “You are terrible at being told what to do,” he says.

This close he can drink in the scent of him, juniper and cinnamon mixed with something that is distinctly Potter. A vein pulses on Potter's kissable throat and Draco feels the overwhelming urge to bite down on it, leave a possessive mark for others to see. 

"Merlin," Potter says, slipping a hand under Draco's shirt. "I swear I'm addicted to you." He captures Draco in a fierce needy kiss and starts to walk them through the hallway to the lab in the back of the shop. 

Draco wants to say something, to tell Potter that he's never felt this happy, that he wants to touch and tease every part of Potter's body from now until forever. But the words don't come, it's too much too soon and Draco doesn't like to feel vulnerable. Instead he leans against the hard planes of Potter's chest and tries to distract him by groping his ass. 

"I can't stop thinking about you," Potter growls, his fingers deftly undoing the buttons of Draco's shirt, faster now than that first night. "And when I'm with you, all I want to do is taste you."

Draco starts to undo Potter's denims, "Obviously you're under the influence of a lust potion. I'm using it to get control of you."

Potter chuckles, and bites-sucks Draco's neck. "That would explain why my cock reacts to you as if you're a walking wet dream." Potter groans when Draco's hand pushes past the barrier of Potter's pants to grip his cock. "It wouldn't explain why you're always on my mind though," Potter says. 

Draco actually feels his heart clench at the implication of those words and he kisses Potter just to shut him up. 

The wards chime and Draco registers the sound of someone trying to open the front door only a moment later. Potter pulls off with wide green eyes. "I locked it," Potter whispers. 

"I didn't turn the sign off though," Draco says, stuffing his shirt back into his trousers. 

Potter looks around and opts to close himself inside the supply closet for safe-keeping just as Draco hears the sound of the door clicking open. 

Draco runs a quick hand through his hair. He's sure it looks like a mess as Potter seems to be particularly enthralled with the fact that Draco let's him touch it at all. He tugs his fingers through it quickly, so it's at least not a wreck, and allows a few strands to fall over his left eye. With any luck this client will think he's sporting the messy-on-purpose look. 

"Hello?" he hears a woman's voice call out from the door. 

Draco heads down the hallway and turns the corner, "I'm sorry but we're-" the words die in his throat. 

"Malfoy." 

"Granger." 

Draco feels a cold shiver sweep through him. Had she seen Potter? 

"I'm sorry," Granger says, "I know you had the door locked but the sign said open so I thought it might have been an accident." She's lying. Draco's almost sure of it, but she sells it better than most Gryffindors. 

Draco doesn't say anything in response. Instead he cocks an eyebrow at her because really he doesn't know the safest way to play this without more information. 

For a moment Granger doesn't say anything either and they just stare at each other in an increasingly uncomfortable silence. Finally Granger puffs out her cheeks on an exhale and says, "All right. Well this is more awkward than I had imagined." She huffs a small laugh and meets Draco's eye, "Look, I need your help. Can we maybe sit down and talk?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♥️♥️ Hope you're enjoying this 💕
> 
> The explicit tag will be more included in later chapters. However, I primarily do my best writing in the *fluff with plot* areas, so fair warning on both accounts! 
> 
> Say hi on Instagram @dracos.tealsuit 🥰


	3. The Deal ~ Hermione

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hermione POV  
> Thank you for reading!  
> Please let me know if you like where this is going in the comments! They keep me going <3

Hermione cast a far more efficient locking charm at the door before following Malfoy back to his lab. She watches him take a seat at the small desk in the room. His face is impassive, the way it’s been in every photo the press has snapped since he got back from France. She should know, she stayed up late last night researching the last few years of his life. Hermione removes her jacket before she sits down, revealing a long sleeve off the shoulder dress that falls to her knees. The dress is not tight and she knows it only shows off her curves if she moves a certain way, which she rarely does, leaving more than enough to the imagination. However, she finds most boys' eyes will linger on her exposed collar bone or exposed neck. She’s gotten better at playing the pretty girl since school and she’s hoping it will help her cause with Malfoy. 

Sitting down, she glances at him to see if the dress has had the desired effect. Though his eyes are definitely taking her in, he looks more suspicious than interested. “Thank you for meeting with me,” Hermione says, giving him a small, sweet, practiced smile. 

Malfoy’s eyes narrow and he keeps them steadily trained on her face without replying. 

Hermione had prepared for this. It’s not the reaction she was hoping for, as it will be more difficult to convince a man in full control of himself than it would be to convince a man distracted by her body. However, while deciding the best way to approach Malfoy, she had considered the fact that he had spent several years watching Pansy Parkinson work a room. The dress Hermione was currently wearing was chosen by Pansy during their first excursion to shopping in muggle London after Pansy had been hired as Hermione’s assistant at the Ministry. Their tentative friendship had blossomed over the last year and Pansy had proved to be a valuable asset, not only at work but as a confidant. 

With Pansy’s penchant for gossip Hermione knew that Malfoy wasn’t holding the same grudges he had in his youth, that he was living with her, that he was single, and that he was dedicated to restoring his place in wizarding society. It was plenty to work with. Perhaps a compliment will warm him up. 

“Congratulations on opening your apothecary,” Hermione says. “I read in the _Prophet_ that you are bidding to supply St. Mungo’s with bone regrowth potions.” 

Malfoy cocks an eyebrow at her. “You said that you needed my help.” 

Hermione leans back into the chair, lets her shoulders relax, and looks away from him. “All right, fine. I need you to go to Harry’s charity gala with me in September.” She adds the next sentence in a forced calm voice, “As my date.” 

A crash comes from the closet, something that sounds distinctly like a glass bottle combusting, and Malfoy flinches at the noise. He spares a brief glance at the closet before responding to Hermione. “What on earth are you talking about Granger? Surely you’re going to the event with Weasley.” 

“Ron and I broke up, two nights ago.” She does her best to sound unaffected by that information but her emotions are still raw from the night. 

That information seems to catch Malfoy’s interest. Maybe all Slytherins love gossip. He leans forward and asks, “You broke up with Weasley?” 

Hermione lifts her chin, “Yes.”

“Why?”

For a moment she considers not answering. This is Malfoy, she doesn't want to share details with him, but she knows that won't work. She needs to get him to agree to this. “He’s oblivious, dense, he doesn’t stimulate me, his main interests are quidditch and signing his name for war hero groupies. He still gets most of his meals from his mother because I won't cook all of them and he’s either sleeping with his Auror partner or he’s headed in that direction.” 

Malfoy cocks his head slightly as though he’s considering her, the barest hint of a smirk on his lips. “You forgot to mention that he’s a ginger.”

Hermione rolls her eyes, “Are you going to help me then?”

“I can’t possibly be your first choice.” 

Hermione feels her face pull into a grimace, “My first choice is not a good option. It would be too complicated and he’s terrible at lying.” 

Malfoy swallows thickly as though he’s fighting his own reply. Finally he says, “I’m sure you have plenty of fans willing to take you out for the gala. Krum would probably fly in from Bulgaria if you asked nicely.” 

“I’m not stupid enough to get involved with some starry-eyed fan. As for Krum, the last thing I need is another quidditch obsessed jock who can’t hold an interesting conversation,” she says. 

For the first time, Malfoy appears to be more than suspicious, and it takes a moment for Hermione to realize the reason. She huffs a laugh. “Don’t get a big head about it. I’m not paying you a compliment, just admitting that you might have a chance at holding a better conversation than two boys who mainly focus on where a ball can be located.”

“Why me?” Malfoy asks in lieu of responding to that statement. 

“Ron said, and I quote, ‘You're a frigid bitch. I bet you can't even get a date for Harry’s event without paying for it.’ They were his parting words.” Hermione leans forward to put her elbows on the desk, folding her hands in front of her. “I can’t think of anyone I could bring that would upset him more than you.” 

“Why do you think I would even consider this. I have no desire to get caught up in your drama.” 

Hermione shrugs, vying for casual when she replies, “We have four months until September. That’s enough time for several dates, which means good press for you and your business. I’m guessing that I can do more for your image over one summer than you can do on your own in the course of a year.” Here she meets his eye, she knows this next statement will be risky. “Since we are being honest, allow me to be very clear. You owe me, and if you can’t remember why I’m willing to pull up my sleeve and remind you.” 

Malfoy’s eyes drop to her left arm where the word is carved into her skin, and he draws in a slow breath before meeting her eye again. “I didn’t think you had this in you, Granger,” and the way he says the words makes Hermione feel like he’s being completely honest with her. 

“This arrangement is beneficial to both of us and we can arrange for a clean and friendly break up after the event. Are you going to help me?” 

Malfoy glances briefly at the closet again before he answers. “I honestly can’t think of a reason not to.” Resigned, he stands up and offers a hand. “Owl me the details of our first date Granger.” 

Hermione stands up feeling triumphant. This is going to work! Ron is going to spend the entire gala slack-jawed and pining for her. She shakes Malfoy’s hand and leaves the apothecary with a genuine smile on her lips.


	4. Fix this ~ Draco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco POV
> 
> Please leave comments as I do use them for sustenance! 💕🙏🏾

Draco hears Potter burst out of the potion-supply closet as soon as the front door is closed again. Draco casts _another_ locking charm at the door and swishes his wand at the 'Open' sign so that it goes dark. No one needs to walk in on this conversation. 

"Merlin, we are fucked!" 

Draco slips his wand back into its holster. "Indeed." He was at a complete loss. This whole thing was going to blow up in his face. It already had. 

Draco could feel Potter's magic whipping around like a lion caught in a trap. "Why did you agree?" Potter asks, and Draco feels that wild anger directed at him. 

Draco pins Potter with a glare, "Did you not listen to that conversation? What the fuck could I have done?" 

"You could have said no!" Potter replies, spilling out the words. 

"This might not mean much to you Potter, but we are talking about Hermione Granger. She's a war hero and -" 

"Is that why?" Potter asks, rudely interrupting because, it turns out, he's still a self-righteous prick. "Is she right? You want to use her to get your reputation back?" 

Draco stalks across the room and flicks Potter on the forehead, right on his infamous scar, "If that were true don't you think I would have taken advantage of having the fucking _Savior_ as my _boyfriend_ by now?" 

Potter goes silent at that. He's breathing heavy and his magic is still whipping around like a loose flogger, but the intent shifts. Draco feels like it's a victory, like Potter actually sees how unfair he's being. Sees that Draco is being used, taken advantage of even. 

"I guess you hadn't considered that," Draco says, letting a smug smirk pull from his lips. 

"Boyfriend?" Potter says. And honestly, Draco considers killing him. Just pulling out his wand and casting an AK. End both their suffering. 

Draco drops his head into his hands. "Is that really what you got from that statement?" he asks, the words muffled through his hands. 

Potter doesn't respond right away, and Draco looks up to see one of Potter's easy smiles. "I didn't know you were ready to call me that yet. I'm glad you are though," Potter says. He reaches up to run the pad of his thumb over Draco's bottom lip. "I want to be your boyfriend."

Draco narrows his eyes and pushes Potter's hand away. "Too late for that. I have a girlfriend."

Potter pulls Draco closer, wrapping his arms loosely around Draco's waist. "If you think I'm letting you go now, just because you're in some fake relationship, you must not have heard about how persistent I am."

Draco hates every last gryffindor he's ever met. He tries to hold onto his anger but the weight of Potter's arms feels good on his hips. His body betrays him, leaning forward to get closer to Potter's warmth. "You need to go talk to her. Fix this."

Potter rests his forehead on Draco's shoulder. "I appreciate your vote of confidence but I'm no match for Hermione. Especially vengeful Hermione. Ron's lucky he's not being kept in a jar like Skeeter."

"So what, I'm just going to go along with this? And you're ok with that?" 

Potter shrugs and pulls back to look at Draco, "It's only a few months. If it will help her then yes, I'm ok with it."

Draco cocks his head and watches Potter's eyes drop to Draco's long neck. "Potter, two weeks ago you got upset when you thought a customer was hitting on me because he complimented my shirt."

"That guy _was_ hitting on you," Potter says, fierce and possessive. Draco feels a thrill go through him at the words. He likes that Potter desires him enough to be jealous. 

Draco folds his arms across his chest. "Do you understand what I'm going to have to do to pull off a fake relationship with Granger?" 

Potter huffs a laugh, "You'll have to start calling her Hermione."

Draco rolls his eyes. "How do you think you're going to feel when I'm at dinner with her? On a _date._ How are you going to feel when I kiss her?" 

Potter's gaze drops to Draco's lips, and a splash of color blooms on his cheeks. After a beat, Potter looks away and stuffs his hands in his pockets. Draco blinks, and then blinks again. He closes the barely-there distance between the two of them and waits for Potter to look back up at him. 

"Something you would like to tell me, Potter?" 

❣️~~~~~~~~~💕~~~~~~~~~❣️

Once all of his paperwork is done and the latest sleeping drought is bottled, Draco apparates straight into his room. He needs to change and find Pansy. He pulls off all of his clothes, dropping them into the laundry basket which they promptly disappear from. Spades, Pansy’s house elf, had given him the basket when he first moved in. For a house elf, Spades was oddly cautious about privacy. Draco tugs on a pair of grey joggers and a light-blue long-sleeved shirt. Then heads downstairs, bare feet padding across the carpet, until he reached the kitchen. 

“Pansy,” Draco calls out, grabbing a bottle of wine off the rack. He hears a bump from upstairs and freezes. His heart rate spikes and he holds his breath, his body tensing up into a tight coil. “Pansy?”

“Hang on!” Pansy’s voice calls to him from the banister and Draco starts to breathe again. He takes a moment to come back to himself. He doesn’t have panic attacks very often anymore, but his survival instincts have never fully received the message about the war being over. _Deep breaths, name three colors, touch something cold._

Draco takes the bottle of wine and grabs two glasses on his way to the drawing-room, and waits for Pansy. She comes in a moment later wearing a black silk nightie and green lace panties. 

Draco chocks an eyebrow at her. "Are those the panties I bought you for your birthday last year?" 

Pansy runs a hand over her over the curve of her ass and smiles, "They are."

"I thought you only wore those for special occasions."

"That was your suggestion when you gave them to me, but I’ve never been good at following your directions," Pansy says with a smile. She sits next to Draco on a plush loveseat and takes a sip of the wind he's already poured for her. 

That’s suspicious. Pansy is not only excellent at following Draco’s direction, she is also fond of gloating about how she often does what he asks her to do. Maybe she’s upset with him? Maybe she already knows what he wants to talk about? He watches her for a moment, gauging her, then says, “We need to talk.” 

Pansy takes another sip of wine, “You’re right. We should talk.” 

She looks nervous, and Draco is pretty confident that she must know what he’s going to say. Why else would she be acting so off? He decides to just get the words out and see what happens. 

“I’ve been seeing someone,” Draco says.

“I’m sorry, Draco,” Pansy says, at the same time. 

They both stop and stare at each other. Pansy opens her mouth to talk but Draco holds up a hand and she waits. “What do you mean, you’re sorry?” 

“I thought you were upset, I thought you were going to confront me about-” she cuts herself off. Draco doesn’t think he’s seen her look this nervous since she asked him the Yule ball. He lays a hand on her knee. 

“Pansy, what’s the matter? Whatever it is, you can tell me.” This is true. He’s not just saying it to coerce her, he is fiercely loyal to Pansy regardless of what she’s done. 

Pansy takes a breath and pushes out her next words as quickly as possible, “I’m sleeping with Astoria.” 

Draco’s eyes go wide. “Astoria Greengrass? As in the woman my parents are in negotiations with for my hand in marriage?” 

“Yes,” Pansy lifts her chin, “and I think I’m falling in love with her.” 

Draco huffs a laugh, which turns into a chuckle, which breaks into full laughter that he's shaking with. "This is just perfect." 

Pansy watches him wearily. "Are you mad?" 

Draco sobers almost immediately and reaches over to wrap Pansy in a hug. "No. I'm not mad at all. I'm happy for you, both of you. This is just the weirdest day since I've come back."

Pansy pulls back from the hug and proceeds to maneuver Draco until his head is in her lap and her fingers are threading through his hair. "What happened darling?" 

Draco closed his eyes and let it all spill out. "I've secretly been shagging the chosen one for two months. And today, Hermione Granger asked me to be her fake boyfriend for the next four months." Pansy's hand had stopped moving and it sounded like her breathing had as well. Draco continued, "On top of all that, I'm pretty sure my boyfriend has the hots for my new girlfriend."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to say one more time, before things get any worse, I'm sorry to Ron Weasley. I really do love him!
> 
> What do you guys think about all these connected relationships? Are you even keeping track? 😂😂


	5. Smile for the camera ~ Hermione

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hermione POV  
> Please let me know what you think in the comments!!  
> Or chat with me on Instagram @dracos.tealsuit 💕💕

“Harry.” Hermione steps through the floo into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. She leans into the hallway and calls up the stairs, “Harry, are you here?” 

“Yeah,” Harry calls back, “Come up.” 

Hermione finds him in the spare bedroom he and Ron slept in when this place was Order headquarters. He converted the room into a dueling room for practice and is currently swinging fists at a punching bag that is spelled to move around the room. He’s wearing grey joggers and no shirt, she can see the top of his black boxer briefs peeking out his joggers. As his body shifts to throw another punch Hermione can see the muscles shift across his back. 

_Merlin,_ she should never have encouraged him to be an auror. She lifts her wand and casts a _Finite_ on the moving bag. 

“What’s up ‘Mione?” Harry asks, removing his gloves and tossing them into a bin. 

“I think I left some clothes here. Do you mind if I check my old room?” 

Harry picks up his glasses from a side table next to the door and looks Hermione over. “Are you doing all right?” 

Harry has one arm above his head with his forearm leaned against the door frame. He's very close, enough that Hermione can feel the heat of his body. Did he notice she was looking at him? "Yes? Why wouldn't I be?"

Harry gives her a quizzical look, "Just making sure. You and Ron-" he trails off with a wave of his hand as though it sums up his point. 

_Oh. Right._

Hermione plasters on the smile she’s been flaunting for the last two weeks, since the break up. “Of course I'm ok."

Harry cocks his head, "You don't have to pretend with me, you know that right?"

"Harry, I'm fine. I promise. Besides, I'm going on a date tonight."

Harry's lips tilt into something that's almost a smile. He looks at her for a long moment and Hermione feels like she's missed something. "I'm going to jump in the shower, you look for your clothes and we can meet in the kitchen in fifteen minutes?" 

Hermione nods and watches him walk to the bathroom. That was not the reaction she had been expecting. She starts to get that feeling again, the one she had through most of school. Harry Potter is up to something. 

Once Hermione locates the dress she needs she heads to the kitchen to make tea. The blue dress is perfect for late spring, tight at the top with an open back and a skirt that flows down to mid-thigh with a sunflower pattern. The flower petals sway as if caught in a gentle breeze. It's from Luna's first collection, before her clothing line veered away from sweet into too-bizarre-for-Hermione territory. 

When Harry comes in from the shower he's dressed in fresh joggers and a t-shirt that stretches across his shoulders. "All right 'Mione, tell me about this date."

❣️~~~~~~~~~💕~~~~~~~~~❣️

The conversation with Harry lingers in Hermione's mind while she's getting ready. She didn't tell him about the plan. That would have been too much to ask, Harry is terrible with secrets. Instead she had just stated that she had been asked to dinner by Draco Malfoy. 

_"Just keep in mind that he's a Slytherin, trained to read people, and can probably talk circles around even you."_

As she steps through her fireplace and disappears in green flames. 

_"I'm not going to judge you for rebounding with forbidden fruit. He is awfully fit now, don't you think?" Harry had said._

As she walks from the entrance to Diagon to the new French cuisine restaurant, Suçon. 

_Amusement flashed in his eyes when Harry's tone dropped from friendly to suggestive. "Just think of all the time he spent in France. I'm sure he learned all kinds of things."_

Hermione's eyes narrow at the memory. Harry Potter was rarely smug and never subtle. Hermione knew for certain that he was up to something, but this was the first time in their long friendship that she had no idea what he was getting into. She is going to have to keep an eye on him. 

The host meets her at the door and offers his arm. "Ms. Granger, your table is ready for you."

When Hermione reaches the table Malfoy stands to greet her with a feather-light press of his lips to her cheek. She flashes a smile at him, hoping there's at least one _Prophet_ photographer in the building. Even if there's not, this will be enough to start a few rumors. 

Malfoy is dressed for the occasion, tailored charcoal trousers with a light blue button down shirt. The color draws out the softer shade of his grey eyes, though they are no less calculating. 

Malfoy manages to surprise her when he asks, "This dress is from the moonlight line, correct? Part of Lovegood's collection."

Malfoy carries conversation fluidly, dancing through several topics and giving Hermione the opportunity to place her own as well. Hermione watches him closely, trying to pick up on any tells that a reporter might notice. When they are through the meal Malfoy calls her out on it. 

"Hermione," he says quietly, leaning forward, "you're awfully stiff. We will never sell this if you spend the whole meal looking suspicious." He picks up the bottle of merlot and refills her wine glass. "I can't sell this without you. Now, give me a smile that doesn't look like you're posing for a photographer."

Malfoy sits upright again and casually undoes the top button of his shirt. Hermione makes a show of slowly looking him over as if he would taste far better than anything on the menu. It's not that difficult if she's honest. The way his hair falls to gently kiss the long white-blond lashes of his left eye, the barely exposed clavicle, the muscles shifting under that shirt he wears like a second skin. When she meets his eye again her lips curve into a wry smile. 

"Thank you for doing this. I know I didn't give you much choice," she says. 

"Would you like to make the front page?" 

Hermione is caught off guard by the offer but she absolutely _does_ want to make the front page. "How would we do that?" 

Malfoy stands and Hermione does as well. When he offers his arm she takes it and they leave the restaurant together. 

Once outside Malfoy crowds into her space. "I had a lovely time," he says. 

Hermione can already her the _click-click_ of a camera. "So did I," she says. 

He leans close, so that only she can hear him, and says, "Don't flinch."

His hand slides around the back of Hermione's neck and draws her closer, tilting her head up to meet his lips. Lips that, she is surprised to find, are soft and eager against her own. Her body curves into his without thought and Hermione's eyes flutter closed. Just as she deepens the kiss he pulls back to kiss her hand and say goodnight. 

The last thing she sees before he disapparates is a familiar smirk on his surprisingly kissable lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like my fanfiction consider reading my original piece.
> 
> https://www.scribblehub.com/series/127844/mercury-rising/


	6. Moral Compass~Draco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Say hi on instagram @dracos.tealsuit  
> I really like this chapter! I hope you do too, please leave me some feedback in the comments! It makes a big difference. 
> 
> If you like my fanfiction please consider reading my original work. It's FREE to read! 
> 
> https://www.inkitt.com/stories/fantasy/520456

Draco is in the hallway leading to the landing of his and Pansy’s flat. He peeks around the corner to get a better view of the scene unfolding at the entryway. Potter is leaned against the door, hands stuffed into his pockets and looking as though he’s trying very hard not to smile. Pansy is spitting venom at him with her wand to his throat.

“I don’t care what you think you’re doing here, Potter,” Pansy says. “I wont have you walking around my home looking for dark artefacts and being a general condescending gryffindor.”

Draco loves Pansy.

“Look, I’m sorry Parkinson. Draco said that he told you that he and I-” he cuts himself off as Pansy’s wand tip presses harder against his pulse point.

“Don’t. Don’t say it because I already had to hear it once. The only reason I’m not shoving you back out the door is because you are Draco’s little pet.”

Draco loves Pansy a _lot_.

Potter pulls up a hand and rests it on Pansy’s shoulder. “Parkinson,” he says, his voice full of earnest entreaty, “I promise you, I’m not going to hurt him, and I will do my level best to be as Hufflepuff as possible while I’m in your flat. No looking through your things or making judgements, I’m just here to show some love.”

Pansy grimaces and backs away from him. “That’s just gross, Potter.” She spins around and leaves him at the door staring after her.

When she passes Draco in the hallway she gives him a saucy wink and heads upstairs.

Potter bites his lip when he sees Draco, straight white teeth dragging across his bottom lip as it pulls into a smile. Draco rolls his eyes, but can’t help his lips tipping into an affectionate smile when Potter pulls him into a kiss before even saying hello.

“I can’t believe you let her do that,” Potter says.

“Of course I did. It’s amusing for me to watch you try and persuade Slytherins,” Draco replies, tilting his head to give Potter better access for kissing and biting his neck. “Come to the kitchen, I will make you some tea.”

Potter hums against Draco’s clavicle, he’s already undone three buttons on Draco’s black Oxford. “I didn’t come here for tea.”

Draco pulls back with a laugh, “You’re an insatiable beast, Potter. If you behave yourself I’ll suck you off before my date.”

Potter drops his hands and stands up straight, looking for all the world like the innocent Golden Boy the press is always praising. “I’ll be good.”

In the kitchen Pansy has left a copy of Witch Weekly on the table. Potter pulls the paper over and looks at the front page. Draco’s already seen it, but he doesn’t think Potter has, Potter doesn’t read the papers. Draco busies himself with making tea while trying to see Potter’s reaction without looking directly at him. Draco has already scrutinized the picture and found that it makes him rather uncomfortable. It would be one thing if the moment had been staged like all the others, but this photograph captures an actual connection.

The headline reads ~War Heroine Wins Pure-blood Heart~. In the picture Draco is looking down at Hermione as though she’s the only person in the room who matters. He leans in to whisper something into her ear and a blush spreads high on her cheekbones. Hermione breaks out into a grin, tugs him close by the collar of his shirt and kisses him. It's nothing crass, just a sweet chaste press of the lips, and then the picture loops and plays again.

Potter watches it a few times, color rising in his cheeks before he looks up at Draco. His eyes are dark, the green edged out by wide pupils. He walks over to crowd Draco against the counter, bracing his arms on either side of the blonde. Potter’s tongue peeks out to lick his lips just as they spread into a smile and he says, "It's a good picture of you."

Draco huffs and shakes his head. “The rumors of your moral compass have been greatly exaggerated,” he says, shifting to allow Potter’s leg to press between his thighs.

Potter laughs, “You have no idea.”

Pansy walks into the kitchen, her presence noted by the click-clack of high heels on the tiled floor. Draco can see her over Potter’s shoulder, her head tilts as she looks them over. “You know, I had Astoria pressed up against the exact same spot last night.”

Potter, who has his lips on Draco’s neck again, starts the chuckle, soft breath puffing hot on Draco’s skin. Potter pulls off and turns to Pansy saying, “It’s nice to know that you and I have something in common.”

Pansy bears her teeth at him and Draco thinks she might have been trying to smile but couldn’t quite manage. The two of them sit at the table while Draco finishes making the tea. Pansy pulls her copy of Witch Weekly over and looks at the picture.

"Granger is my friend and I want to know exactly what it is you two are doing with her before this all goes to shit and I end up buying her several pints of ice cream."

Potter leans in his chair, tipping it back so it's balanced on two legs. "Hermione is a big girl Parkinson. She's not going to let us do anything to her that she doesn't want done."

"But you are planning something."

"Not planning. Hoping maybe. Besides, she asked for Draco's help and he's helping her. Ron is livid," Potter's smile grows, "you should have heard him this morning storming through the ministry."

"That doesn't change the fact that you two are causing problems. She told me that she's excited about her date tonight. That she's starting to enjoy Draco a bit too much, thinking about kissing him even without the cameras." Pansy glares at Draco, "You're not supposed to hear that so don’t say anything to her about it or she will stop talking to me about you."

Potter’s teeth drag across his bottom lip and he lets his chair fall back to the tile floor with a clack before saying, "Draco is a very talented kisser."

Pansy narrows her eyes and leans forward, her short black hair brushing her jawline from the movement. "I know exactly what kind of kissing Draco is capable of," she replies, her voice low and nothing short of threatening. She points a finger at him. "Hermione Granger is far too smart for you, Potter. She's going to figure this out and if she cries one tear over either of you I will make you regret it."

Harry puts his hand over hers and squeezes gently. "She's my best friend Parkinson. I'm far more interested in making her happy than making her cry." He briefly glances at me, "Besides, I have a Slytherin working with me. We make a great team."

Pansy leaves for work after issuing a warning to Potter. “I have wards on my room. If you step one foot in there I will send the Prophet.”

Draco drags Potter upstairs to his room as soon as Pansy leaves. He only has a small window before his next date with Hermione.

“Do you think she’s actually hiding something illegal in her room?”

“She just likes to threaten you Potter,” Draco says. “I know the feeling.”

Draco fists his fingers into Potter’s shirt pushing him against his bedroom door to meet his lips in a bruising kiss. Potter moans in approval and pulls Draco flush against him kissing back the way Potter always does, all heat passion and force. Draco rolls his tongue against the slide of Potter’s at the same time as his hips, letting his erection press deliciously against Potter’s.

Draco pulled off Potter's lips to suck and bite along his jaw and then his neck.

“Fuck, I want you,” Potter pants out the words while rutting against Draco’s thigh, his hands grip hard into the blonde's biceps as the pleasure built from his toes and traveled up his body.

“No time, I can’t be late for my date with Granger.”

Potter licks his lips and Draco can feel his cock get impossibly harder against Draco's thigh. "You're going to be on a date with the fresh scent of my cum on you then."

Draco's breath hitches at the words. "Fuck Potter," he says. The words to come out breathy and needy instead of the admonishment he'd been going for.

Draco slips a hand between them. He undoes the button of Harry's denims, then his own, and moves the boxers so that both of their cocks are against each other, skin on skin. The heat alone is enough to make Draco weak. Draco's long fingers wrap around them both, a lubrication charm already cast, and he begins to pump his hand. Potter captures his mouth for another kiss until his body starts to tremble and he has to throw his head back, sucking in air and saying Draco's name. Potter's cum pulses out of him and onto Draco's cock. It took almost nothing for Draco to cum then, his climax bursting forth, sending waves of pleasure through his body.

When they are both put back together with cleaning spells cast, Potter lounges on Draco’s bed watching him get ready. Draco can see him through the reflection of the mirror, raven hair even messier than normal and an easy smile on those kissable lips. Draco looks down to do up the buttons on a teal Oxford, and says, “I think it’s time for us to have a real conversation about the Granger situation.”

“All right,” Potter replies, “what do you want to know?”

Draco turns to face him, “I want to know what the goal is here.”

Potter sits up with his feet hanging off the end of Draco’s king-size bed. “And you want me to be honest?”

“Always.”

Potter hesitates, chewing on his bottom lip.

Draco had expected this caution from Potter, so he pitches his voice low and careful, as though he’s talking to a wild bunny. “I already know that you find her attractive, and I think you would be open to messing around with her.”

“I don’t want to do anything that would jeopardize what I have with you Draco.”

 _Merlin_. Draco marvels at Potter’s willingness to bare his vulnerability like that. Discussing a threesome is one thing, confessing the importance of a relationship openly like that is just dangerous. Or so Draco has always been taught. Potter stands to wrap his arms around Draco.

“I mean that,” Potter says and Draco feels a warmth thrum through his body.

“It wouldn’t,” Draco answers honestly. “I’ve never held sex and-” he stops himself before saying anything too telling and Potter’s face breaks into a wide grin. Draco huffs and says, “this in the same regard."

“Yeah? So you would be interested in a bit more than kissing Hermione?”

“Would you?”

Potter chuckles, “Of course I would. Not only is she gorgeous she’s charming and sweet and she’s been there for me all my life. Plus I’ve heard how she sounds getting shagged and I still wank to the memory.”

“Sweet Salazar Harry,” Draco says. He’s only said Harry’s first name a handful times and from the way it makes Potter’s eyes sparkle he suspects that Potter could list them off. “You’re doing this on purpose because I’m going to see her.” It’s not a question, he’s not subtle.

Potter leans forward to nibble his ear, “Do you think you can do it? Seduce her? Hermione isn’t easy to coerce and she doesn’t even know that you and I are together.”

Draco closes his eyes and thinks about the way Hermione has been looking at him lately, about Pansy’s confession in the kitchen, and says simply, “Of course I can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? Can Draco seduce Hermione? How will she react when she finds out about Harry?  
> Mwahahaha! 
> 
> Really though, I hope you liked this chapter :)  
> Next update will be by June 24th.  
> Also, I'm a tiny bit behind on fitting this story into my original chapter count, so it might be a bit closer to 15 chapters when it's done.


	7. It's an act ~ Hermione

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hermione POV
> 
> Please let me know what you think in the comments!! They are highly motivating :) 
> 
> This chapter is pretty heavy on the fake relationship trope, next chapter will be heavier on the secret relationship <3

Hermione walks into the Ministry atrium 20 minutes before an all-hands meeting with her staff. She's dressed in a stylized light grey pant-suit that hugs her ass and flares out over tall boots, providing an illusion that her legs are longer than they actually are. Pansy had gushed praise when Hermione bought the suit and insisted she pair it with a light pink blouse, stating, "It brings a copper sheen to those doe eyes you're sporting."

At the time, Hermione had taken offense, arguing that she was not ‘a fragile woodland creature,’ and ‘woman can wear more than pink,’ and ‘can’t a female dress for reasons other than looking pretty’. 

Pansy had sat quietly, until Hermione had run out of steam, before saying, “My mistake. It brings a copper sheen to the lion eyes you’re sporting. Is that better?” Hermione _had_ felt better and then burst out laughing at the absurdity of the conversation. Pansy wasn’t sexist, she just liked fashion and Hermione seemed to be one of her favorite projects. 

Her assistant is sitting dutifully at the large desk in front of Hermione's closed-door office and she smiles when Hermione walks up. "Morning boss," Pansy says. "Your notes for the meeting are on your desk along with a bouquet of multicolored Cape Jasmines." 

Hermione pauses in her stride to the office. "Flowers? From who?" 

Pansy arches a perfectly manicured brow, "I didn't read the card but I'm guessing they are from your date last night?" 

_That's odd,_ Hermione thinks, _we didn't plan flowers._

Hermione opens the door to find the loveliest bouquet of flowers she's ever seen, not to mention the largets. The Cape Jasmine flowers take up half her desk, shifting in color between each petal so that even one flower is several shades of pink, blue, white, and violet. With so many flowers she's surprised the smell isn't overwhelming, but there's only a hint of jasmine in the air. Hermione turns back to Pansy only to find her assistant right behind her, peeking over Hermione's shoulder. 

Hermione picks up a small card from the bouquet, white linen paper that's soft to the touch with silver letters. 

_Hermione_

_I wanted to show these flowers how pretty you are.* - Draco_

"Do these flowers have a special meaning to Draco?" Hermione asks, desperate to ignore the happy warmth spreading through her chest at Draco's words. 

"Not that I've heard." Pansy scurries back to her computer to look up the meaning online. "This says the cape jasmine symbolizes beauty, luck, and sensuality." 

Hermione hmms as she looks back at the flowers. She's been quite determined to get her head straight about Draco over this last week, and failing spectacularly. She keeps reminding herself that this is all for show, but he makes everything feel authentic when they are together. Hermione has even tried to shut down her growing feelings by replaying moments from Hogwarts in her mind, back when she would never have been able to find him appealing. It hasn’t worked, he’s changed so much from the way he used to treat her that it backfired, highlighting the changes he’s made and his personal growth. 

It didn't help that he was so fit, and honestly, the way he kissed! It was addictive. Hermione couldn't be held responsible for those intrusive thoughts about what else he could do with those lips, that tongue, his long nimble fingers gripping her hips to thrust-

"Good morning ladies." 

Hermione jumps at the sound of Draco's voice. She might have even _squeaked_ but she would certainly claim ignorance if asked. Draco is dressed in a set of black high-collar robes with silver trim. He would have looked severe if not for a soft smile and the mischief dancing in those grey eyes. 

"Draco," Hermione squeaks out. 

"Hermione," he replies, his smile growing. 

"Pansy," Pansy says, looking between them. Draco laughs and bumps her shoulder affectionately. She watches them closely, trying to decipher if Draco has told Pansy that this is all a sham or if she needs to keep up appearances. Pansy has not mentioned it to her either way. 

When Pansy returns to her desk Draco says, "I wanted to make sure you liked the flowers." 

Hermione feels her cheeks flush but maintains eye contact, "I did, thank you" she says, leaning forward to kiss him on the cheek and whisper, "they were unexpected."

"I have it on good authority that The Weasel is bringing flowers to his or her partner today," Draco says in a low voice. "I wanted you to have something more extravagant than his dozen roses in case you want to make him jealous."

 _Oh._ Hermione thinks, trying to decide if that's better or worse than assuming he was trying to make a statement. "I see," she says. 

Draco slips a finger under her chin and tilts her face up to his for a chaste kiss. "If I'm honest, that's not the only reason, a woman like you deserves to see beauty in places other than the mirror."

_It's an act. We're in public._

Hermione holds her breath, she can't be the only one feeling the tension between them. Looking into his eyes with her hands clenched she fights the desire to drag him into her office and tear off both their clothes. She closes her eyes and repeats the thought like a mantra- _it's an act, it's an act, it's an act._

Pansy’s voice cuts in and breaks the spell between them. "Hermione your meeting is in five minutes."

"Thank you," Hermione says. Then, to Draco, she says, "I'll see you this weekend."

Before he replies, Pansy interrupts saying, "Oh, Draco isn't coming to the Leaky with us tonight?" Her voice is thick with false innocence and she is keeping her eyes trained on her computer screen. 

Hermione's brows drawdown. _What is she up to?_

"I wasn't aware of anything at the Leaky," Draco says. "Did you need me there?" 

Again, Pansy answers first, "I'm sure she doesn't _need_ you, but I bet she wants you there." Pansy glances up now, giving Draco a significant look. "Potter will be there," she says. 

Hermione looks between them, as they stare at each other without speaking. she can tell Pansy is stirring up trouble, only she's not sure what kind. Both of them are so careful to only express the emotion they intend to have shown. Surely this isn't about an old school rivalry, Draco hasn't said a bad thing about Harry to Hermione since this whole thing started. Come to think of it, he hasn't mentioned Harry at all.

After several steady beats of silence, Draco turns to Hermione. "I would love to join you. We can go together if you like. Pick you up at 6?" Draco asks, as though Hermione had had any part in inviting him. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione sees a flash of red hair and that’s enough to push her over the edge. If these two are going to play games than Hermione is going to capitalize it.

She smirks at Draco, grabs his collar, and pulls him close. “Only if you give me a real kiss,” she says the words against his lips expecting him to laugh. Instead, Draco wraps his arms around her waist and hauls her into a passionate kiss that Hermione can feel all the way down into her curling toes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * this is a reference to Name Of The Wind by Patrick Rothfuss, which I HIGHLY recommend because it's one of my favorite stories.


	8. Start Talking~Draco POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is anyone else doing camp nanowrimo?  
> Or just wants a place to talk to some other writers? 
> 
> Here's a Discord room you can check out! My name is different on there so try to guess who I am! 
> 
> https://discord.gg/NYmrtD

“Potter!”

“Yes love?”

“Do not ‘yes love’ me. Get out of the shower and put your clothes on! We need to leave or I’m going to be late.” 

Draco hears the water shut off as he pulls on a Puddlemore t-shirt and slips into his shoes. 

“You know, you can go ahead without me.” Harry says, stepping out of the bathroom. “I’m going straight there so I have plenty of time.” Droplets of water spill from his wet hair and run down, over his abdomen and the V of his hips, to the towel cinched around his waist. 

Draco fights the urge to cancel the night and lick Harry dry. It must show because Harry closes the distance between them to trap Draco against the door of his walk-in closet with a hungry kiss. 

“Go on Draco, I’ll see you there.” 

Draco apparates to a block away from Hermione’s flat. He greets the reporters waiting to snap a picture of him going into her house, giving them a friendly smile when they ask if he’s happy about his girlfriend. When Hermione opens the door to let him in, her eyes drop slow and hungry over his body, lingering over the tight t-shirt and well fitting denims. Draco smirks and asks, “May I come in?” 

Hermione’s blush is lovely, a pink bloom spreading across her cheeks, highlighting her freckles. She steps out of the doorway. “Of course, hello,” she says. 

Draco steps in, spins on the ball of his right foot and crowds Hermione against the freshly closed door, inhaling the rose flower perfume she favors. “You look good, Hermione Granger,” he says, smiling at her gasp of surprise when his fingers pluck at the green blouse she’s wearing. “Did you wear this for me?” 

Draco can feel the tremble on her hand when she touches his. “Draco,” she says, taking a breath, to try and steady herself. “What are you doing?” 

He leans forward, letting his blonde fringe brush against her forehead, to whisper, “I’m thinking about kissing you.” 

“No one’s here. I mean, no reporters.” 

“I know, that’s why I haven’t done it.” Draco slips a finger into the belt loop of her denims and tugs gently, so her thighs press against his. The heat from her body seep through the fabric. Hermione tilts up her chin, offering her lips to him and Draco nearly lets go of his control to kiss her. “We’re going to be late,” he says, backing away. 

Hermione does an admirable job of collecting herself, though her cheeks are still colored when she takes his arm to apparate.

“Does Pansy know?” Hermione asks as they walk to the Leaky Cauldron. “About our agreement.” 

Draco nods, “She’s my best friend, I had to tell her.” 

Hermione nods in agreement. “That makes sense.” She stops walking just before they reach the door and Draco stops with her. “Does anyone else know?” 

Draco is saved from answering that Confringo by Pansy, who opens the door to the Leaky and insists they both come inside. He has a good feeling about tonight. 

They sit next to each other at a table with a handfull of Ministry employees. Hermione talks to them about the werewolves rights case they are working on, and Pansy strikes up a conversation with Draco. She tells him that Astoria is coming in after she gets off work from Flourish and Blotts. 

"Astoria is working?" Draco asks. It's not common for a pure-blood woman to work outside of the few in the Ministry. 

Pansy shrugs, draining the rest of her pygmy puff cocktail. "I offered to get in with Hermione but she doesn't like politics. 

"Understandable," Draco replies, thinking of his own aversion to the Ministry, "but retail?" 

"I know," Pansy says with a dramatic shudder, making Draco laugh. "Anyway, I wanted to let you know she's coming tonight."

"Will she be joining you back at the flat? I can stay out late if you want." 

Pansy flashes him a saucy smirk. "You're a good friend. I'm going to buy you a glass of wine," she says before standing up to walk to the bar. The way the bartender is watching her, Draco doubts very much that she will have to actually pay for his drink, but it's a nice gesture. 

The fireplace flares behind Draco and he turns to see Potter stepping out of the green flames. He's wearing baggy denims and a black button down shirt that is slightly too tight, stretching across his chest, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Draco drags his eyes away from the flex of Potter's forearms to look closely at the shirt. He hears a mug placed on the table and turns back to see Pansy looking at him. 

"Is that your shirt?" she mouths the words, instead of speaking them, thankfully. They are far too close to Hermione for her to whisper quietly enough. 

Draco's sighs and nods. Seeing Potter in his clothes makes his stomach flip pleasantly, but his mind is suspicious of the motive. So much for feeling like he had a handle on this night. 

Potter comes up to the table. "Hullo everyone. Malfoy, I'm surprised to see you're here," he says, his tone just a touch too friendly. 

Draco stands to shake his hand, a hand that has been wrapped around his cock only an hour ago. "Potter." 

"Harry!" Hermione jumps up to wrap him in a hug. 

Potter hugs her back, strong arms circling her waist. "Hermione, it's good to see you." Potter's eyes flit to Draco before she pulls back. 

Hermione glances over her shoulder at Draco, then looks up at Potter and speaks in a low voice, saying, "You smell just like him."

Draco sees a flash of excitement in Potter's eyes, though his expression doesn't betray him. "Smell like who?" Potter asks, all false innocence. 

Hermione narrows her eyes. "You smell like Draco."

Draco goes stiff, anticipating an argument but it doesn't come. Potter flashes her an easy smile, and says, "Then he must have good taste in cologne," before kissing her cheek. 

He leaves to say hello to the rest of the table while Draco and Hermione watch him go. 

What the hell is he up to? Draco thinks. When he chances a glance at Hermione he can see the same question reflected in her eyes. 

Pansy comes up behind them to hand Hermione a fresh drink. "The Chosen prat does have a nice ass. I can see why the two of you are always staring at him."

Hermione doesn't reply to her and she doesn't give Draco the chance. She spins around, grabs Draco's hand and drags him to the women's room, throwing a Ministry level locking spell at the door. 

She sleeves her wand and turns to face Draco. "Start talking."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Angst or not to Angst??  
> I don't know what dramione shippers usually prefer 😂
> 
> Anyone who has read Rambunctious Roommates or Wallbanger knows I'm not as big on Angst. But... There is plenty of room for it. 
> 
> What do you guys think?


	9. Still In Trouble ~Hermione

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really hoping this chapter isn't devisive. Please leave comments, they make me happy!

Hermione watches as Draco tries to collect himself with his stupid stormy eyes and his ridiculously perfect hair. "I said, start talking."

Draco huffs out a helpless sound that might have been an attempt at laughing. "I'm not sure what you want me to talk about."

"Tell me what's going on with Harry."

Draco runs a hand through his hair before gracefully slipping his hands into his pockets. "At eleven he was woefully missorted into Gryffindor and he hasn't stopped running headfirst into bad choices since then."

Hermione's eyes narrow. "I was also sorted into Gryffindor."

Draco's eyes dart quickly around the bathroom. "I'm aware."

"So you think you're better at making decisions then? Because you're a Slytherin?" 

Draco stares at her for a long moment before speaking quietly, "I believe we covered my regrets about life choices during our second date, Hermione."

Hermione's anger deflates, -not all of it, not even  _ most  _ of it, only slightly- at the memory of those grey eyes, bright with unshed tears, as Draco stumbled through an apology for their years at school. He had been regaling her with stories from France, where he had made friends with several muggle-borns, when his composure broke. 

“Stop deflecting,” she says. 

“When you first asked me for help you said I wasn’t your first choice,” Draco says, and a swarm of bees take up flight in Hermione’s stomach. “You said your first choice would be too complicated. Who were you talking about?” 

“Pansy Parkinson,” Hermione says, lying through her teeth. 

Draco has the nerve to laugh. “You said, and I quote, ‘My first choice is not a good option. It would be too complicated and he’s terrible at lying.’ Pansy is an excellent liar.” 

_ She is _ , Hermione thinks,  _ though she always calls it bluffing _ .

“When did you realize who I was talking about?” 

“When you said it in my apothecary. 'Complicated and terrible at lying' is how one accurately describes Harry.” 

Hearing Harry's given name from Draco's lips reminds her that she's angry. Hermione walks up to him and gets right in his pretty face, as best she can, he's a head taller than her and she's not in heels. “What's the bad decision he's making?” 

He hesitates before saying, "I misspoke. The decision isn't bad, it's his execution that shows a complete lack of-" Draco pauses to smirk, "self-preservation."

Hermione folds her arms and cocks an eyebrow. 

“I really feel like he should be here for this conversation.” 

Hermione bares her teeth. “Don’t worry, he’s in for a lot worse than you are.” 

Draco’s brows furrow and he puts a gentle hand on her crossed arms. "Look, I'm not sure what you think is going on but let me clarify. Harry and I have been together since Teddy's birthday party. We kept it quiet because it's  _ private."  _

Hermione pulls away from his touch, angry with herself for wanting to be close to him. She had thought they might be able to make something real from this. "So you've been manipulating me," she says, careful not to phrase it as a question. 

Draco's eyebrows meet his hairline. "Manipulating you," he repeats the words, incredulous. “Weren’t you the one who came to my office and told me I  _ had  _ to help you? It’s not like you asked if I had a boyfriend.”

“I didn’t know you were gay!” Hermione shouts back, resolutely telling herself not to cry. She is not sad, she is angry. She will not  _ feel  _ sadness over this aristocratic asshat. Yes, that’s a better way to think of him, not Draco, asshat. 

“I’m bi actually,” Draco growls back, “and that’s not the point. Yes I kept my relationship with Potter a secret, and yes I was trying to seduce you, but I was  _ not  _ manipulating you.” 

Hermione draws up short, thrown by his words. “Why were you trying to seduce me?” 

“Surely the smartest witch in England can figure out the answer to that,” Draco bites out. 

Hermione searches his face, trying to understand, but it doesn’t make sense. “Did you think you could use me to betray Harry? I thought you had changed.” 

Draco’s expression shutters closed and his grey eyes look like ice. “We’re done here.” He turns toward the door. 

“Wait!” Hermione lunges forward to grab his arm. “I- no, you can’t just leave like this. I’m sorry, it was an inappropriate thing to say. I’m just-” she stops, searching for the right thing to say. 

Draco looks back at her, over his shoulder. “You’re just?” 

“I’m angry. I know you’ve changed, though clearly you’re still a Slytherin,” she says. “And I’m pretty sure that you don’t know the definition of the word manipulation.” 

Draco gives her an unimpressed look. “Are you stopping me from leaving because you care or because you still need me to be your date at the gala?” 

Hermione feels her cheeks flush at the question. “Both,” she admits, hoping the honesty will pay off. 

Draco turns to face her and says, “Slytherin tendencies must not be as deplorable as you say if two-thirds of the Golden Trio has them.” 

Hermione’s not sure what to say to that so they stand quietly for a moment, just looking at each other, until Hermione asks, “You wanted to sleep with me?” 

“Yes. Want, it’s not past tense.” 

Despite her anger, Hermione feels her body respond to that confession. She chews at her bottom lip, trying to decide the best thing to say next. She hasn’t forgiven him, either of them, but her reasons for being angry are all tangled up now with the fact that Draco is right. In the beginning she had tried to manipulate him, and when that didn’t work, she had used guilt. Still, after their second date, Draco had told her he was looking forward to seeing her again. 

Hermione takes a breath, trying to clear her mind, “Harry doesn’t mind that you want to have sex with me?” 

Draco’s smirk returns, for the first time since they came into the loo he doesn’t look nervous. “No. Potter wants to join.” 

A blue stag materializes in the bathroom and Hermione recognizes it immediately. “Where are you guys?” it asks, Harry’s voice coming from the proud deer. “Parkinson and her girlfriend are making me do shots. I need a rescue.” 

Hermione looks back at Draco. “We are not done here, and you’re still obligated to come to the gala with me.” 

Draco brows furrow again, “So you’re not still mad?” 

“I am definitely still mad,” she replies, “and I’m going to think of what you need to do to make it up to me. Both of you.” A smile tugs at Draco’s lips and Hermione can tell he’s trying to fight it. She points a finger at him. “Don’t get smug, you’re still in trouble.” 

The smile grows as he puts his hands up in a sign of surrender. “Not smug. Still in trouble. Got it.” 

Hermione shoots him one last glare before she casts a  _ Finite _ and leaves the bathroom to go save Harry.


End file.
